


Merry Christmas, Indeed

by akimbo628



Category: Supernatural
Genre: After s05e10 Abandon All Hope, Canon Divergence, Christmas, Depressed Castiel, Destiel Secret Santa 2014, Fallen Castiel, Fluff, M/M, Schmoop, mentions of Jo and Ellen Harvelle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-04
Updated: 2014-12-18
Packaged: 2018-02-28 02:58:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2716382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akimbo628/pseuds/akimbo628
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Now that his powers are fading since his revolt from Heaven, Castiel finds it practically impossible to get into the Christmas spirit. Dean, on the other hand, wants to acknowledge the importance of Christmas and how it celebrates family, togetherness, and love, especially since this might be the last Christmas the world might ever see.<br/></p><p>Can Dean get through to Cas while he's in his slump?<br/></p><p>Can Team Free Will get a break from the apocalyptic rat race?<br/></p><p>Will Dean finally get to have some pie??</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all!! This fic is dedicated to my Destiel secret santa, supernaturallynoble, on Tumblr. I hope you enjoy it ^_^ This is my first attempt at writing fan fiction, so please leave any comments to tell me what you think or what I can do to improve! Thank you!!

Castiel glowers at the fogged up window in Bobby’s kitchen, listlessly observing the wintery scene outside. He is bundled up in one of Dean’s old jackets – since he can now feel the bitter chill of winter on his skin – with a hot cup of coffee in tow. These items are necessities rather than luxuries in his humanized state. These are bitter reminders of what he has lost.

And yet he relishes in breathing in Dean’s scent from the jacket. The intoxicating aroma brings Castiel comfort. It feels like _home_.

 _Home._ Heaven. A place where Castiel once felt secure. But now he is banished, an outcast to his brothers and sisters. What will he do now? Where can he go?

In his melancholic reverie, Castiel doesn’t seem to notice Bobby rolling into the kitchen and heading straight for the refrigerator to grab a beer. As he takes a swig of his beer, Bobby gives the crumpled, disheveled Castiel a once over, and then bellows out a rugged grunt. This hardly breaks Castiel out of his trance. Bobby rolls his eyes and mutters something under his breath along the lines of, “ _Ain’t got time for this emotional angel princess crap.”_

Bobby then grabs a half emptied bottle from the refrigerator and pours its amber contents into Castiel’s coffee. Castiel finally breaks his attention from the window when he smells the potency of the whiskey in his mug. He wrinkles his eyebrows to match his already wrinkled nose in curiosity.

“Figured you need some Irish in your coffee,” Bobby retorts, his eyes crinkling from his halfhearted smirk.

Castiel purses his lips in response, eventually managing to say “…Thank you.”

“Yea, yea. Just at least try to get your head back into stopping the apocalypse…when you’re ready, son” Bobby then starts heading for his study, mumbling “ _ya idgit”_ as he passes Castiel.

 _When will I ever be ready? I cannot face myself let alone my brothers and sisters…_ Castiel sighs in defeat as his eyes return to the snow falling outside. He gulps down his drink, embracing the fire that the contents ignite in his throat. It’s a good burn, he resolves. It numbs the pain, it fills the emptiness.

…

Dean has been watching Cas for awhile now. His heart wrenches seeing Cas this way. He knows what it’s like, to feel powerless in a hopeless situation. But that won’t stop Dean from trying. He and Sam had always muddled through, and Cas will be no exception. He’s family. He’s _home. There’s gotta be something I can do…_

Dean rises from the couch, mumbling to Sam and Bobby about needing a break from research, and walks over to Cas. He crouches by his side, hoping that maybe he could get his attention. When Cas doesn’t react to Dean’s presence at first, he considers touching his hand to break his reverie. To break that personal bubble, to feel Cas’ rough, callous skin touching his, Dean would give anything. But he’s so petrified over it being too much, over Cas not understanding exactly why Dean _needs_ his touch, why he _needs_ Cas. _For someone who faces demons, angels, and any other crap that beats a kid’s nightmares, you’d think I could handle just touching the dude’s hand._ Suddenly, however, Cas turns his attention to Dean. Dean is secretly relieved, for now he can save his bravery for another day.

…

Castiel suddenly becomes highly aware of Dean’s closeness, and turns around in his chair to see that Dean’s face is merely inches away from his. His skin tingles at the proximity, and he begins to feel his face flush. _Is that normal?_ He and Dean do not lose eye contact for what feels like millennia. Castiel licks his lips as his eyes flick to Dean’s mouth for an instant. Dean then clears his throat and looks down – _is he blushing?_ – at his shoes.

“Cas, buddy, how are ya feeling?” Dean asks nonchalantly, still facing the kitchen floor.

“Dean, I do not understand why you would make that query. You know that I—“

“Yea, Cas, I know. Your angel mojo has left the building. I get that. I don’t really care about that right now…Well, I do, but what I’m trying to say is…how do you _feel_?” Dean quickly mutters in a hushed tone, as if he were telling Castiel a profound secret. Dean finally looks up at Castiel, his eyes wide with concern.

“Why does that matter, Dean?” Castiel asks so he does not lose focus while under Dean’s gaze.

“I—It just…does. I don’t know man,” Dean looks away in defeat, “You’ve just seemed down since you’ve lost your VIP membership upstairs, and I—I just want you to feel better again.”

“I am aware that the mission is pertinent, Dean, and I am trying to feel ‘better,’ as you suggest, so that I can do what I can help with stopping the apocalypse.” Castiel huffs and gazes into Dean’s eyes, hoping to convey his thoughts without words. _I will do what I can so I can be there for you when you need me. You should know that._

Dean sighs and rolls his eyes. “Cas. That’s not what I mean. I’m not thinking about the apocalypse right now. I’m thinking about us—well, ya know, you, me, Sammy, and Bobby—and how we’re all here now. Losing Ellen and Jo, it reminded me of how short life can be, and especially for us. I mean, with heaven and hell are out for our heads 24/7, the chopping block can’t be too far away. I just want the people I…care about… to be happy or to be as close as they can be to it. And you’re one of those people, Cas,” Dean manages the last part in an almost inaudible mumble as his face returns to the floor.

Castiel’s eyes widen at the confession. This is hardly Dean’s caliber of conversation; he usually grunts something about “sucking it up” whenever there were situations like this. Words like these would never pass his lips unless he feels a sense of urgency to say them, let alone to _Castiel._

“So, I was thinking that we could celebrate Christmas this year,” Dean continues, “I know that being holly and jolly ain’t our thing, but I figured that since the world is probably going to end soon and things have been hard with Ellen and Jo gone, maybe we could lighten up the mood and think about other things for a little while.” He flashes Castiel a warm smile, and he can’t help but to bloom into a small smile in return. However, what Castiel was feeling inside does not match the action.

“While your intentions seem good, I am not sure if I would be interested in such festivities.” He purses his lips as he watches the hope slightly fade from Dean’s expression. This kills him. 

“Why not? It’ll be great! We’ll drink spiked eggnog, get some pie, listen to some sickeningly cheery Christmas music…” _Kiss under the mistletoe…_

“I just do not think that I, a fallen angel, should be celebrating the birth of the Lord, Dean,” Castiel huffs, as if this is obvious, “Also, I do not think that I belong in such an event with your family. You all deserve a hiatus from this mess, including me.”

“Well, technically, the Christmas we celebrate now actually comes from pagan tradition,” Dean states matter-of-factly. He then seems to process what Cas says, and tightens his jaw.

“Cas. Believe me. You belong here. With us,”-- _With me--_ “We want you around, especially for Christmas. We do deserve a break from this mess, you’re right about that, but so do you.”

“I do not know…” Castiel’s steely resolve is faltered by Dean’s words. 

“Please, Cas. Let me help you feel okay again? I swear you won’t regret it.” Dean looks up at Castiel with childlike hope, his sinfully green eyes glistening with anticipation. 

“…Whatever you have planned, I am certain it will be fine.” Castiel gives in to Dean’s pleas even though he truly doubts that anyone can help him at this point. Dean seems to see through his façade, however.

“You’ll see,” he says, placing his hand on Castiel’s shoulder ten seconds longer than platonic. Dean then gives him a reassuring smile before he walks back to the study.

Castiel downs the rest of his spiked – now cold – coffee and gets lost in thought as he stares at his mug. _Why does he feel the need to do anything for me? I should be useless to him without my grace._ He sighs in defeat and lays his head on the table, longing to sulk indefinitely. He then thinks back to the hope that drained from Dean’s eyes when he shot him down. _No. I need to try. For_ him _I will try._ He rises from his chair and refills his mug with coffee and liquid courage, and shuffles over to the study.

“Need any help?” 

All three hunters’ heads shoot up from their books and give each other inquisitive looks.

“You sure you’re up for that, Cas?” Dean carefully asks, hope returning in his eyes.

“I believe that I can manage to be of service.”

Bobby chews the inside of his cheek, but grunts in permission. “Alright then, boy. Grab a book,” He hands Castiel a massive text, “We’ve got a lot to cover.”

Castiel nods in gratitude and sits himself down next to Dean. Dean reddens at the realization that their knees are now touching. Castiel too realizes their closeness and looks down at his book to attempt to ignore the tingling sensation in his knee. The ex-angel and hunter look down at their books, giving the impression that they’re diligent in their research. But all either can think of is each other, and how they wish that they could be closer. 

They don’t even realize that they have an audience. Bobby and Sam stare incredulously at the two.

 _Idgits,_ Bobby thinks as he rolls his eyes and returns to his books.

 _Those two are so in love it’s disgusting._ Sam snorts at the scene before him and smirks to himself as he looks back down at his laptop. _Can they just kiss already? The suspense is killing me._

Sam decides that he should give Cas a talk later to push him in the right direction. To, you know, get their heads in the game about stopping the apocalypse. Totally not to finally get these oblivious idiots together or anything. Definitely not that.


	2. Chapter 2

For the next few days, Sam finds himself contemplating how he could help with Cas and Dean’s situation. He figures it would be a pretty decent Christmas present, opening the love-struck idiots’ eyes to how they really feel about each other. Dean gave him and Bobby the Christmas spiel, and Sam was onboard with it, to Dean’s surprise. He admits that the last Christmas they celebrated together wasn’t half bad, despite the whole “almost being sacrificed to man-eating gods” thing. And since it looks like at least one of the members of their group if not all of them might, yet again, be facing an upcoming death sentence, it probably isn’t such a bad idea to cherish what little time they have left. It was about time they had a chance at a little bit of happiness, or at least not being miserable.

Sam runs his hand through his long locks as he feigns doing research on his laptop. He has been blankly staring at the glowing screen all day in Bobby’s study, transfixed in contemplation over how he will proceed with his line of attack. Does he talk to Cas privately? Does he make innuendos in front of Cas and his brother? _Nah, I don’t really feel like sporting a black eye this week…_

Suddenly, Dean appears from the staircase, bundled up in multiple layers of winter clothes.

“Got enough layers there, Dean?” Sam quips with a smirk.

“Shut up, Samantha,” Dean retorts as he rolls his eyes and puts on some heavy duty gloves, “I’m going out to the garage to put some snow tires on Baby. Just yell if you need me.”

Sam nods in response as he watches Dean head for the front door. Then here comes Cas, still with the same somber expression he’s been wearing since his fall from grace. The moment that Cas comes into the room, Dean stops and stares. Sam stifles back a chuckle as a big, goofy grin splay across his brother’s face. _He is so in love._ Cas looks back at Dean in awe, as if he is watching the sunrise for the first time. _And_ he _is so in love._ Sam purses his lips as he clears his throat, hoping to cut through some of the overwhelming sexual tension in the air. 

Dean flits his eyes to Sam – a flit laced with heated irritation – for a millisecond, then back to Cas. His love-sick smolder returns as he asks, “How ya feelin’ today, Cas?” 

“I am…well, Dean. Thank you for your concern,” Cas responds, matching Dean’s sappy gaze. Sam raises his eyebrows to the little show before him. _This is nauseating. Just get a room already._

Dean hesitates, as if he has a hard time believing Castiel’s statement. He acknowledges what Castiel says, however, with a nod, accepting it as an unspoken message screaming, “Let’s not go there.”

“Welp, like I said, I’m heading out. Be back in a few hours,” says Dean, still stiff as a statue under Castiel’s gaze.

 _Here’s my chance to get Cas alone._ Sam realizes that this might be his only chance to talk to him without being interrupted by “The Eye Sex Hour with Dean and Cas.” 

…And yet, Dean and Castiel are still standing in their places like immovable pillars. Sam bellows out an exaggerated sigh, hoping to get their attention. However, this does not affect the two in the least. Sam then notices that Dean has had his hand on the door knob with the door ajar the whole time, letting in the cold.

“Dean. Nimbostratus clouds are going to come in here with the amount of time you’ve had the door open,” Sam chides mockingly, hoping that this will make his brother just leave already. 

Dean finally snaps back into reality, and looks down at the opened door sheepishly. He then looks up at Sam while radiating a powerful aura of _I am so done_. “Yea…Well…God, Sam, you are _such_ a nerd,” he groans as he storms outside, practically slamming the door behind him.

 _Finally._ Sam closes the lid of his computer with a sigh of relief. He then raises his eyes to Cas, who looks as if he’s about to return to his favorite moping spot, the kitchen chair. “Cas! Wait a minute. Can we, um, talk?”

Cas seems perplexed by the request, but replies without hesitation, saying, “Of course, Sam.” He sits down on the couch where he and Dean usually sit. He studies Sam with his wide blue eyes, seeming attentive yet curious. 

“So…Christmas…” Sam starts.

“Please, Sam. We can discuss anything, _anything_ you wish,” Castiel huffs as he rolls his eyes, “but why of all things must we discuss something as trivial as an overrated human holiday?” He sags in his seat and crosses his arms, appearing to be done with the conversation before it can go any further.

Sam pursed his lips at the negative reaction, thinking of a way to recover from the rapid downturn in conversation. Dean had told him about Castiel’s reservations about celebrating Christmas, but he didn’t think that he would be so _averse_ to it. 

“Just hear me out, Cas. I swear to you that this isn’t as ‘trivial’ as it may seem. But in order for me to prove that to you, you’ve got to listen to what I have to say. Please?”

“…Fine,” Castiel sulks, “I am listening.”

“Thank you, Cas,” Sam sighs in relief, “So, I know that Christmas is pretty meaningless to you, especially since that you’ve...left…Heaven,” –Castiel smirks darkly at this –“But you’re with us now. You’re a part of our family, and we can’t just leave you out of things like this.” _As dorky as they may be…_

Castiel’s bites his lower lip in thought as his cold glare slightly thaws. Sam decides that this is the perfect moment to throw in the hook.

“…And if that doesn’t convince you to have Christmas with us, consider this: this isn’t really for you,”—Castiel’s eyebrows arch in curiosity—“this is for Dean. Dean really wants this, all of us spending time together before the final showdown. He needs this, Cas, and he needs you.”

Castiel’s eyes widen in shock at the confession. _He needs_ me _?_

As if he read his mind, Sam continues, “Yes, Cas. He needs you. He really cares about you, and he just wants you to be happy. Maybe he thinks this is the way to get you in good spirits.”

When Sam realizes that Castiel is still staring at him incredulously, he continues, “This time two years ago, Dean wanted to have Christmas for the first time in years, and I wasn’t up to it at first. I’ll admit it. But because it was _Dean,_ not because I knew that he was up for the chopping block, I did it. For _him;_ because I care about him and I want him to be happy.”—Castiel’s facial expression softens at the sentiment—“You care about Dean…don’t you, Cas?” _Here’s the big reveal…_

“Yes. More than anything,” Cas confesses without hesitation.

Sam is internally screaming, but tries his hardest not to let it show. “Then you’ve got to show him that. Just do this one thing for him, Cas. I know he’ll appreciate it.” _Oh God, do I dare say it? “_ Maybe you should tell him how you feel, just so he knows how much you care about him.”

“Sam…I—I am not sure if Dean is the type to appreciate that sentiment as you say. Is Dean not what some might call ‘emotionally constipated’?” Castiel looks down at his shoes, lamely attempting to hide his rapidly reddening face.

Sam almost bursts out into roaring laughter over Castiel’s word usage, but he somewhat contains himself for the sake of the confused ex-angel. He eventually manages, “I think you of all people can get through to him.”

“Okay, Sam…I will try. For Dean.” Castiel smiles as Dean’s name passes his lips.

“Thank you, Cas. Really, I don’t know how Dean would manage without you,” Sam really means this; Cas is Dean’s anchor when he can’t be, and for that he is eternally grateful, “I’m glad we could have this talk.”

“As am I, Sam…Thank you.” Castiel face brightens over the new information he has received. _Dean actually needs_ me _._

“No problem.” Sam grins in victory. _I am a genius._

Both men rise from their seats and go their separate ways; Sam to the shower, Cas to the kitchen for another hit for his coffee fix. Cas decides not to sit in his usual spot today. He also decides to leave the whiskey out of his coffee. However, he still looks out his favorite window. He sees Dean working on his car. Dean then just so happens to catch Castiel staring. Dean stares back.

And Dean smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the song that inspires me when I get writer's block: Times - Tenth Avenue North  
> This is the fan-made video that introduced me to the song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mKn7Atzs1ko  
> I do not own this video or this song.  
> However, I probably have either playing on repeat as you read this now :3
> 
> Thanks for reading! More to come soon!!


	3. Chapter 3

Christmas Eve approaches rapidly, and Bobby’s place is looking surprisingly festive, and Bobby is even more surprisingly okay with it. When Dean had pitched to him the idea of having Christmas this year, he was pretty indifferent to it at first. _I was probably gonna get drunk on spiked eggnog anyway,_ he figured. But once he got used to notion of having a little break from thoughts of the apocalypse and spending some time with his boys – and one slightly off angel–, it didn’t seem like such a terrible idea after all. 

Sam and Dean put up some lights outside, along with a wreath (meadowsweet free) on the front door. They even found a decent tree for Bobby’s study. Dean also hung some mistletoe, covertly, over the archway between the study and the staircase.

“Wanna be the angel on top?” Dean says as he winks at Castiel, who was watching the event of decorating the tree transpire. Castiel narrows his eyes and takes a sip from his mug of spiked nog, totally oblivious to Dean’s evident flirtation.

Sam scoffs at the two, then steps in by saying, “C’mon Dean, don’t subject Cas to your eggnog-induced douchebaggery.”

“Psh. I’ve hardly touched the stuff. Can’t I just be in a good mood, Sammy?” In truth, Dean wasn’t in a good mood at all; he was overwhelmingly anxious. He decides that tonight is going to be the night that he is going to man up and tell Cas how he feels about him. _I’m actually surprised that I’m_ not _drunk for this right now._ His outward flirtation is just his defense mechanism of faux cockiness showing, the only weapon Dean can use when his insecurities begin to creep up on him.

“I guess…” Sam says, immediately doubting the alleged source of his brother’s behavior. However, to Dean’s relief, he drops the subject. 

Bobby then rolls into the study, beholding the scene before him. The boys look different today, somehow. Almost… _happy_. He jibes, “You idgits better not get pine needles all over the floor. I ain’t cleanin’ that crap outta my wheels.” Bobby rolls his eyes as Sam and Dean nod absently in response to his comment, their focus fully engaged in decorating the tree. He huffs and rolls his eyes. _I guess I can let this one go. The boys deserve a good Christmas._ Flashbacks of screaming matches with John Winchester about how his sons, being only children, deserve normalcy -- especially for Christmas -- run through his head. He then returns his attention to the boys fussing over the tree, an almost childlike anticipation sparkling in their eyes. Even Castiel seems slightly lighter of heart, making snarky remarks about Dean’s decorating methods while Sam laughs obnoxiously. Bobby smiles warmly; he’s so proud of his boys. 

“Bobby?” Bobby is broken out of his reverie by Sam, who is holding an ornament out in his direction, “Did you want to help with the tree?”

“Nah, I’ll leave you boys to it.” Bobby starts to make his way to the kitchen, and then says, “Oh, and Sam?”

“Yea, Bobby?”

“No more nog for you. You’re taking me out Christmas shopping later.”

“Yes sir,” Sam says with a wide grin on his face.

Bobby smiles to himself as he makes his way to the kitchen, satisfied with the family he’s made. So very proud of the sons he raised.

…

With Sam and Bobby gone, the house is even more quiet than usual. Dean is overwhelmed by his luck today; he was hoping for a miracle such as this, being alone with Cas. He wanted to give Cas his present in private, and he knew with oblivious Sam awkwardly third wheeling every chance he got, that getting Cas alone would be rare. But there he is, sitting on the couch and gazing upon the bright tree before him. _Thank God I did my shopping earlier…_

Dean is watching Castiel from the archway by the staircase. He wills his legs to move, but they won’t comply. He then looks down in shame over how ridiculous he is being. 

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean’s head shoots up at the sound of his name coming from a deep, gravelly voice. The source of the voice was closer than he had expected; Castiel is now standing right in front of him, his blue eyes wide with curiosity.

 _This is it. Alright, Dean Winchester, it’s time to man up and face the monster in your closet… Wow. Really? I just had to use those words…_ ”Hey Cas.”

“What are you up to? You seem pensive.”

“Me? Pensive?? Nah, pensive is more of Sam’s look…” Dean feigns a chuckle as he tries to recover. “I—I’m, uh, just admiring the scenery,” he says as he nods at the tree, wishing he could muster up some faux confidence to verbally include Cas in that statement.

“…I see.” Castiel is boring into Dean’s soul with his eyes, and Dean has to keep reminding himself to breathe. 

“So, um, I have a present for you…” _Well that didn’t sound like an opener for a porno…_

As Dean beats himself up over his word usage, Castiel is staring at him even harder –if that’s even possible–, wearing an expression more quizzical than before. “What for, Dean?”

“…For Christmas, Cas. It’s something people do, they exchange gifts...with the people they lo—care about.” 

“Oh…I apologize,” Cas looks down sheepishly, “I did not get you anything.”

“Psh. Don’t worry about it, dude. You’re a beginner at this whole ‘human’ thing, remember?” Dean didn’t expect anything from Cas, because just him being around was enough. Hell, it was more than enough. It was perfect.

“I suppose,” Castiel mumbles as he continues to look down at his shoes, his spirits visibly dying away.

“Hey, wait a minute, Cas,” Dean takes Cas’ face in his hands, gently making him face Dean, “Don’t be like that. You’re not expected to know these things. And we don’t usually do Christmas here anyway, so it’s not like we’re snobs about customs.” Dean’s eyes dart from Castiel’s eyes to his lips and back again. Castiel doesn’t miss the movement, and he licks his lips absentmindedly. “We’ll make our own Christmas,” Dean adds in a whisper. Castiel shudders to the sound of his voice.

Suddenly realizing how close their faces are, Dean quickly drops his hands and holds his own right hand, playing with the ring on his finger. “I, um, I should probably give you your gift now.” 

“Very well, Dean.” Castiel is pouting at the sudden absence of the warmth of Dean’s hands on his face, but then raises his eyes to Dean in hope.

Dean took a deep breath as removed the silver ring from his finger. He gave the ring one last adoring glance, smiling warmly at the memory that came with it…

…

_Dean was 18 years old. Things have been good lately, like really good. He got his GED recently. Sam actually liked the school he was attending, and he was making some friends. His dad said that they might stay in town longer than planned, so Sam could enjoy the normalcy for awhile. The motel had a pretty impressive set up. Even his dad was spending more time with him and his brother for a change._

_Dean was sitting in a diner with his father, waiting for their burgers to come off the grill. They had been chatting about pretty much everything: the weather, Sam’s grades, the Impala. Anything but the current case at hand. It was unusual for his father. Unusual, but nice._

_“Dean. I have something very important to show you.” His father reached for his jacket pocket._

_Dean’s eyes widened in curiosity. “Dad?”_ Could it be something for the case? Is something wrong with Sammy?

_It was a small jewelry box. His father placed it down on the table and slid it across it to Dean. “Open it.”_

_Dean’s eyebrows wrinkled in confusion, but he complied. There was a thick, silver ring inside. It was beautiful. “Dad, this is…”_

_“It was your mother’s. I gave it to her as a promise ring when we were your age.” His father smiled warmly, reminiscence twinkling in his eyes._

_Dean gaped at the ring before him, suddenly realizing the significance of this gift. “You sure you want me to have this?”_

_“Your mother would’ve wanted you to have that,” his father said as he pointed at the little black box. Dean’s jaw tightened as he blinked back tears._

_Dean took the ring out of its box with great care, and put it on his ring finger on his right hand. “It fits,” he said, surprised._

_His father chuckled and said, “She wore it on her thumb since I got it too big.”_

_Dean smiled adoringly at the ring on his finger. “Thanks, Dad. This…This means a lot.”_

_“Well, like it or not, you’re a man now, son. And I want you to carry a piece of your mother with you wherever you go. Remember her, Dean. Remember why we do what we do.” His dad’s expression suddenly became somber. Tired._

_“Always.”_

_“And hey, maybe you can give this to a special lady someday, when all of this is done,” his dad said to recover from the sudden seriousness. Dean immediately understood what that last part meant, “When all of this is done.”_ When we avenge Mom’s death.

_“Yea, sure.” Dean’s jaw tightened at the implication. He swallowed down the thoughts of confused emotions and tried to bask in the moment. His father was being kind to him. He was wearing his mother’s ring. Life was good._

…

…Dean takes Cas’ hand in his own and places the ring on his palm. He knows that his dad would never approve of what he considered someone worthy enough to wear his mother’s ring. But Cas means so much to him. Dean knows that this is the right person.

“I want to you to have this, Cas.” Dean looks into Cas’ eyes meaningfully, as if he is trying to convey the significance of this token without words.

Castiel seems to get the message. “Dean…” His expression melts as his eyes bore into Dean’s tenderly.

“It was my mom’s,” Cas’ expression deepens at the confession, “And I want you to have it. Because…Because you mean a lot to me, Cas. And I don’t want you to leave.” Dean winces at his own honesty. He hates feeling needy, and he hates needing Cas as much as he does. He should be able to take care of himself.

“I will stay as long as you need me,” Castiel says, almost in a whisper. He realizes that Dean is still holding his hand. He doesn’t break eye contact with Dean as he puts the ring on his right ring finger – because that’s where Dean usually puts it on his own hand – and he then goes back to holding Dean’s hand gently. He rubs his thumb circles on the top of Dean’s hand with his thumb, hoping that it will ease him. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Cas…” Dean’s eyes are glossy, and he leans in closer to Castiel’s touch. He needs to be closer to him. He needs this sense of comfort. He needs _this_.

Cas’ eyes flit to Dean’s lips for a mere second, and this is enough for Dean. Dean slowly leans in closer and closer, looking at Cas with curious eyes, as if he’s silently asking for permission. Cas then takes Dean by surprise and pulls him into a passionate kiss. Their mouths meld together like puzzle pieces that are simply meant to fit. The kiss is long, heated, and blissful. Out of all the women that Dean has kissed in his life, nothing has ever felt quite like this.

When the two finally pull apart for air, Dean strokes Cas’ face with the pad of his thumb tenderly. “I love you.” Fear fills Dean’s heart, but he stands by his words. Cas needs to know.

“I love you, too, Dean,” Castiel says without hesitation. He finally realizes where he belongs, and that is with Dean.

The hunter and the ex-angel gaze into each other’s eyes for what feels like millennia, until Dean’s attention breaks, and he begins to chuckle.

Cas looks at him quizzically. “What is it, Dean?”

“We’re standing under mistletoe,” Dean says as he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. Cas whips out a smirk as he rolls his eyes. Dean chortles and pulls Cas in for another kiss.

…

Sam walks up to Bobby’s front door, carrying a heap of grocery bags. He can’t wait to give Dean the pie he got him for Christmas. Cherry, his favorite! Sam laughed to himself about how stoked his brother will be when suddenly, he notices two figures in the window. It looks like Dean by the stairs and he’s…kissing someone?… _Is that Cas?? That can’t be Cas, can it?!_ The figures’ bodies shift enough for Sam to see the other face. _Yep._ _That’s Cas…OKAY, THAT IS DEFINITELY CAS!!_

Sam immediately retreats, thanking God that Bobby wanted to check on his truck before coming inside. He thinks up some excuse to tell Bobby about wanting to help him with the truck or something while desperately attempting to not focus on his own internal screaming.

As Sam walks into the garage, Bobby gives him a skeptical onceover. “What’s the matter with ya, son? You look like you’ve seen a ghost… Well, hell, ya know what I mean…”

“Um, it’s nothing, Bobby. Really.” Sam looks down, trying to hide the traumatized expression on his face.

Bobby lets out an exasperated sigh. “Dean and Cas?”

Sam looks up at Bobby in utter shock, and mutters, “How—How did you…?”

Bobby rolled his eyes and goes back to working under the hood of his truck. “Boy, my legs might be broke, but I ain’t blind.” Sam is frozen in place, seeming unable to handle everything that is happening all at once. Bobby sighs once more, and says, “Put those bags down, ya idgit, and come make yourself useful. We’re gonna be here for awhile.”

And they didn’t speak another word of it again that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!! So, I know that this is a long chapter compared to the others. But that's because there's just an epilogue after this that should be pretty short.. Thank you all so much for reading, and I shall be updating shortly!


	4. Epilogue

Christmas comes without a hitch. Everyone wakes up early, and Bobby makes breakfast. Christmas music is played quietly in the background while gifts are exchanged. It takes every ounce of willpower in Dean for him to not dive face first into his cherry pie from Sam. Everything is light and the energy in the room is charged.

Everyone’s gathered around the study, surrounded by tattered makeshift wrapping paper. They eat and drink and talk and laugh until their stomachs ache. Dean has his arm around Cas on the couch th entire time, to Cas’ surprise. He notices that both Sam and Bobby are looking at Dean’s ring on his finger, but they don’t say anything. They treat him like they always have: like family. He realizes that he does not need to be sad anymore, for he has finally found what he is looking for.

 _Home_. Dean. His friends. A place where Castiel feels secure. This is his true family, and they would never give up on him. Being there for them is what he can do in return. For this is where he can go.

Castiel looks at Dean as he tells a joke to Sam and Bobby, and as the punchline hits, and everyone else is splitting their sides with laughter, Dean looks over at Cas.

“Good Christmas?”

“Best Christmas I have ever had.”

“…So far,” Dean adds. When Castiel is looking at him incredulously, he says, “Well, I hope to have more Christmases with you in the future. If we survive this whole apocalypse thing.”

“That would be nice,” Castiel remarks sarcastically.

“Mhm. And I would hope that more Christmases like these will happen. This is perfect.” Dean holds Cas’ hand and squeezes it, “Merry Christmas, Cas.”

Castiel smiles as he looks into Dean’s eyes. Maybe there will be more Christmases like this one. Maybe they can stop the apocalypse. But as for right now, he’s just going to focus on what’s most important, especially for his buddying humanity: love. “Merry Christmas, Dean.” 

_Merry Christmas, indeed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all, folks!! Once again, thank you so much for reading. This is my first fic, and I'm really glad that I gave writing a shot :) If you have any thoughts or questions, just let me know! I really appreciate your support!!
> 
> And I hope you have a Merry Christmas ;)


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